Chapter 44
Poke. Poke. Sizzle.
I stared at my plate. It was a masterpiece of grease and happiness!
On the left: A slice of Bacon Lovers Pizza. (The bacon was crispy! Like little salty ribbons of joy!) On the right: A slice of Triple Cheese Explosion. (The cheese was stretching! It was alive!)
I held my fork like a trident. I poked the bacon. Squish. I poked the cheese. Gloob.
"If I mix them," I whispered to myself, "I will create the Ultimate Flavor Bomb. It might be too powerful for my tongue. But I must try!"
"Aleesha."
Gabriel's voice cut through my culinary experiments.
I looked up. He was sitting across from me in the booth, wiping his hands on a napkin.
He had eaten exactly two slices of pepperoni pizza with a knife and fork (because he is fancy and weird).
He was watching me play with my food with that look he always gives me—like he is trying to solve a Rubik's Cube that is missing a sticker.
"Yes, my handsome Logistics King?" I beamed, balancing a piece of bacon on my fork.
"I have a query," he said, leaning back. "Regarding your academic performance."
"Ooh! My grades?" I puffed out my chest. "They are excellent! Shiny! Like my forehead after P.E. class!"
"Yes," Gabriel nodded slowly. "You possess a 4.0 GPA. You are consistently on the Dean's List. Your transcript indicates a high aptitude for Information Technology."
He paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
"And yet... earlier you asked me if 'The Cloud' gets wet when it rains. And you seem to believe that deleting a file on a phone destroys it forever."
He tilted his head, looking genuinely baffled.
"How, Aleesha? How do you survive your course? How are you a top student when you lack... fundamental comprehension of how data works?"
I froze. My fork hovered in mid-air. The bacon wobbled.
Busted.
Huhu! Does he know? Did he see my brain scan?!
Okay, here is the secret truth (don't tell anyone!): I am a Crammer. A Super-Crammer!
I don't actually learn things to keep them forever!
My brain is like a whiteboard! I attend class, I doodle hearts in my notebook, and then five minutes before the exam, I activate Super Focus Mode.
I read the notes, I memorize every single word and diagram perfectly because I have a super-fast eyeballs-to-brain connection, I ace the test, getting every answer right. .. and then... WHOOSH!
The janitor in my head wipes the whiteboard clean to make room for anime plots, crochet patterns, and lyrics to Aerosmith songs!
If you asked me right now what a "polymorphism" is in coding, I would say it's when a Power Ranger transforms!
But I can't tell Gabriel that! He values "efficiency" and "knowledge"! He will think I am a fraud! A pink imposter!
I gulped. I set my fork down.
"Well!" I cleared my throat, putting on my Serious Face. "I take my studies super seriously, Gabby! I study night and day! I burn the midnight oil! And the morning oil!"
"Is that so?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Yes! Because I have a dream!" I clenched my fist. "I want to be a Cybersecurity Analyst! I want to be a White Hat Hacker."
Gabriel chuckled. A low, rumbly sound that made my tummy do a flip.
"A hacker?" he asked, amused. "You struggle to hack into a bag of chips, Aleesha."
"Hey!" I pouted. "Those bags are sealed with industrial glue! But I am serious! I want to use my skills to take down criminals! I want to fight the bad guys! Pow! Zap! Delete!"
Gabriel's amusement faded slightly. His face went a little blank.
"Criminals," he repeated. "What kind of criminals?"
"The big ones!" I waved my hands enthusiastically. "The scary ones! I saw them on Google! Like... The Yakuza! And the Cartels! And the... uh... The Triads!"
I leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.
"And the Italian ones! The Mafia! La Cosa Nostra!
They are super bad, Gabby! They sell bad stuff and hurt people!
I want to hack their mainframes! I will find their secret spreadsheets and expose their crimes to the world!
And then the police will come—wee-woo-wee-woo—and put them all in jail!
And the people will live happily ever after! "
I smiled triumphantly. "Isn't that a noble goal?"
Gabriel stared at me. He looked... unbothered. He picked up his water glass and took a sip.
"Aleesha," he said calmly. "The world is not a comic book."
"I know! It's 3D!"
"Criminal syndicates," he continued, swirling his water, "are often essential to the global economy.
They provide services that governments cannot.
They regulate markets. They maintain order in chaos.
Without them, certain economic structures would collapse.
It is... logistics. Supply and demand. If you remove the 'bad guys,' the economy falls. "
I blinked.
"Huh?" I scratched my head. "That sounds like boring villain talk! Who cares about economics if people are sad?!"
"It is reality," Gabriel stated. "The police you idolize are often on the payroll of the very syndicates you wish to destroy. Taking down a 'Kingpin' simply creates a power vacuum. Chaos ensues. Innocents suffer more."
"No!" I slammed my hand on the table (gently, so the pizza didn't jump).
"That is wrong!" I insisted, my face getting hot. "Criminals are bad! They are bullies! They hurt poor people who can't fight back! And if the police favor them, then the police are bullies too! What happens to the poor people, huh? They get stepped on!"
I felt tears pricking my eyes. I really hate bullies. Like Chad. Like Mr. Samuels. Like invisible mafia bosses!
"I hate them!" I declared passionately. "I hate anyone who thinks they are above the rules! I hate people who hurt others for money! If I ever met a Mafia Boss, I would... I would..."
I grabbed my fork and stabbed my pizza crust. STAB!
"I would delete his entire hard drive!" I threatened. "And I would wish I never met him! I hope they all go to jail and eat soggy bread forever! I hope I never, ever meet someone like that!"
I pulled the fork out of the mutilated crust. I took a deep breath, letting the anger fade away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling.
"You know why, Gabby?" I asked softly, resting my chin on my hands and looking past him, gazing dreamily at the neon pizza sign like it was a crystal ball.
"Because my dream isn't big and scary. It's actually super small."
A smile tugged at my lips as the picture formed in my head.
"I just want a simple, normal life," I whispered. "With you. And our future family. Maybe... maybe we could live in Switzerland! Yes! Amidst the Alps and the cows with the little bells! Ding ding!"
I giggled at the thought.
"I wouldn't be a hacker anymore. I would just be.
.. a baker! I would bake strawberry cakes and sell cookies to the village children!
Aleesha's Famous Choco-Chunk Cookies!
And I would take care of our kids, Gabby.
Maybe two? Or three? I'd wipe their chocolatey faces and braid their hair and put bandaids on their knees. "
"And we would be best friends with the neighbors!" I continued, my eyes sparkling. "We would wave and say, 'Good morning, Mr. Johnson!' and we would share our lasagna during Christmas! We would borrow sugar! We would just... be normal. Safe. Happy."
I sighed contentedly, holding onto that image. It felt so real. So perfect.
"That's why I hate those bad guys," I said seriously, looking back into Gabriel's eyes.
"Because people like that... criminals..
. they don't care about cookies or neighbors.
They only bring chaos. If a person like that came into our lives, they would just drag our peaceful, beautiful life straight into the trash. "
I shook my head firmly.
"And I won't let that happen. I want our life to stay clean. And sweet. Forever."
Silence.
The pizza parlor was noisy with chatter, but our booth felt very, very quiet.
Gabriel didn't speak. He didn't blink. He just stared at me.
His eyes were dark pools. Unreadable. He looked at my stabbed pizza. Then he looked at my angry, pouting face.
He looked... strange. Not mad. Just... distant. Like he was looking at me from across a giant canyon.
"Gabby?" I whispered, feeling a little guilty for shouting. "Are you okay? Did I scare you with my justice talk?"
He blinked slowly. The mask came back on. The cool, indifferent Logistician mask.
"You are fierce," he said flatly. "For a girl afraid of thunder."
He cleared his throat and looked away.
"Look," he pointed out the window. "The sun is setting."
I looked.
WHOAA!
"Pretty!"
The sky was a mix of orange and purple and pink! Like cotton candy melting in the sky! It painted the street outside in golden light.
I looked at the sunset, then back at Gabriel. The golden light was hitting his face, making his skin glow. He looked like a painting.
He was staring at me. Not the sunset. Me.
His expression was softer now. Less like a rock. More like... a tired prince.
I smiled at him. A big, gummy, happy smile.
"Sunset selfie!" I chirped, holding up my phone. But he ducked away. Huhu. Shy boy!
★
After we decimated the pizza (okay, I decimated it; Gabriel ate like a bird), I grabbed his hand.
"Come on! We are not done!"
I dragged him out of the pizza parlor. I pushed him toward the driver's side of the Aston Martin.
"To the Convenience Store! Onward!"
Gabriel sighed, but he unlocked the car. "What do you require now? We have food at home."
"Not food!" I buckled my seatbelt. "Supplies! Beauty supplies! I read an article that said stress causes wrinkles. And you, my dear husband, are very stressed. You frown too much! You will look like a raisin by the time you are forty!"
He drove us to the nearest 24/7 store.
I ran down the aisles.
"Ooh! Sheet masks! Aloe Vera! Snail Mucin!"
"Snail... what?" Gabriel asked, standing behind me holding a basket like a reluctant bodyguard.
"Mucin! It's snail snot! It makes you glow!" I threw five packs into the basket.
"I am not putting mollusk secretions on my face," he stated firmly.
"We'll see!" I winked.
I bought toner. I bought cotton pads. I bought a weird face roller thingy. I bought gummy bears (for emotional support).
"Okay! Home time! Spa Night: Part Two!"
★
We got home. I didn't let him go to his office. I didn't let him check his logistics emails.
I dragged him straight to the master bedroom.
"Sit!" I pointed to the bed.
"Aleesha, I have work—"
"No work! Only glow!"
I pushed him by the shoulders. He is a giant wall of muscle, so usually, I can't move him. But he let me push him backward until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he sat down.
"Lie back!" I commanded.
"I am not doing this," he grumbled.
"Please?" I gave him the Puppy Dog Eyes. The Level 10 Pout. The trembling lip. "For me? I want my husband to be handsome and smooth! I want you to be the most kissable logistician in the world!"
Gabriel stared at me. He looked at the ceiling. He let out a breath that sounded like 'Why me?'
But he lay back.
Victory!
I straddled his hips (not in a sexy way! In a beautician way!). I lined up my bottles on the nightstand.
"Okay! First, we cleanse!"
I poured some toner on a cotton pad. I wiped his face gently.
He closed his eyes. His jaw was tense.
"Relax!" I tapped his nose. "Stop thinking about boxes!"
He relaxed... a tiny bit.
"Now, the serum!" I massaged the oil into his skin. His face is so structure! I felt like I was polishing a statue.
"You are very handsome, Gabby," I whispered, tracing his eyebrows. "Like a movie star. Or a vampire prince."
He grunted. "Is this the snail snot?"
"No, this is Vitamin C! The snail comes next!"
I ripped open the sheet mask package. It was cold and slimy.
"Okay, don't scream," I warned.
I slapped the mask onto his face.
SPLAT.
"Cold," he hissed.
"It tightens the pores!" I smoothed it out over his nose and cheeks.
Now, my husband looked like... a wet ghost. Or Hannibal Lecter if he was into skincare.
"Perfect!" I clapped. "Now we wait 15 minutes for the nutrients to absorb!"
I hopped off him and flopped onto my side of the bed, grabbing a handful of gummy bears. Gabriel lay there, stiff as a board, with the sheet mask clinging to his face.
BZZZT.
My phone vibrated on the duvet.
"Ooh! Is it Stephie?" I wondered. "Maybe she wants to know if Operation Delete Chad worked?"
I picked up the phone.
No name. No picture. Just a generic grey silhouette.
"Huh?" I frowned.
I unlocked the screen.
It wasn't a text message. It was a file attachment.
"Weird," I muttered.
"What is it?" Gabriel asked from beneath the mask, his voice muffled.
"Just... spam, I think? Someone sent me a PDF."
I opened it. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back!
The file loaded.
It looked... official. Like, really official. It had a stamp on the top corner that said POLICE DEPARTMENT - HOMICIDE DIVISION. And another stamp in red that said CLOSED - COLD CASE.
My eyes widened.
It's a true crime file! Like in the documentaries!
I don't know anything about crime stuff (I faint at the sight of papercuts!), but I started reading.
There were pictures.
I squinted. They were grainy black and white photos of a warehouse.
I blinked.
Why did someone send this to me? I'm just a student! I like pink! I don't solve murders!
"Gabby," I whispered, feeling a sudden chill in the room that had nothing to do with the AC. "Look at this..."
I looked at Gabriel.
He was still lying there with the mask on. He couldn't see me.
I looked back at the file on my phone.
"Who sent this?" I whispered to the Unknown Number.
But the screen just stared back at me, bright and silent.